


Snow Angel

by semaphoredrivethru



Series: Drabbles and Flash Fiction [15]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drabble, Flash Fiction, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-04-10
Updated: 2004-04-10
Packaged: 2017-11-03 10:17:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/380294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/semaphoredrivethru/pseuds/semaphoredrivethru





	Snow Angel

The hush of slowly falling snow echoed and roared across his ear drums as Harry sat out in the open on the lakeshore, staring out at nothing much in particular. A soft, fine and chilled blanket of white formed over his head and shoulders, but he didn't care, not since his cloak was spelled to keep him warm and dry and since he was so completely and utterly lost in thought that even if he hadn't had his special winter cloak on, he still likely wouldn't have noticed the cold and damp.

Hundreds upon thousands of snowflakes hit the ground, soft and muffled thuds that would have passed unnoticed if there had been even another person breathing beside him and Harry hugged his knees closer to his body as though to reaffirm that he really had no need for any company at all. This moment that he had found and stolen and was in the process of memorizing was so entirely outside of what he had come to accept as his reality; a reality filled with splitting headaches, sneer-filled lessons, hushed planning meetings and tight-lipped reports of comrades fallen only to stay down despite the best of efforts.

Finally, with great reluctance, Harry shook himself from his light trance and stood. The snow had changed the familiar landscape into something fresh and new, just as the rest of the world would be changed in the morning, once they heard the news. Unable to resist the childish urge, Harry turned around and kicked his impromptu seat, calmly noting how Voldemort's body was already getting covered by the hundreds of tiny flakes that fell slowly and anonymously from the sky as that part of the world was wiped out with a whisper and a flutter of a cloak that sounded almost like the shush of feathered wings.  



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